


An Arrangement

by Zodiac



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blackmail, Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), POV Third Person, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zodiac/pseuds/Zodiac
Summary: By this point, the Warrior of Light and Darkness should have known better than to make deals with Ascians, especially one as enigmatic as Emet-Selch. However, when an inexplicable yearning for the man in question takes hold, not even knowledge of past experiences and past cruelties is enough to stop him from coming to an arrangement with him... Of course, the Ascian having blackmail material on him certainly didn't help matters either.
Relationships: Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	An Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> Little thing based on [this post](https://twitter.com/mintsui/status/1311755322466467841?s=20) about Emet-Selch giving the WoL a handjob, then smacking them in the face with his glove when they have the audacity to cum on it.

"By Zodiark, you truly are a pathetic excuse for a hero."

Zelos didn't know why he even bothered to hope that Emet-Selch would stay silent through their little arrangement. Perhaps it was the allegedly-foolish optimism he managed to retain even now. Maybe it was just a part of being a Warrior of Light, being able to hope for something no matter how far-fetched it may seem. Regardless of the whys or hows, the Ascian seemed determined to grind his hopes to dust without even knowing of their existence.

Yet another reason why this shouldn't be happening at all.

It had started out at the Crystarium when he first laid eyes on the Ascian in his stolen, modified flesh; this light but insistent tugging on his mind, like the nagging sensation of having a word on the tip of one's tongue, present throughout the entirety of that encounter and beyond whenever he thought about Emet-Selch for too long. That may have been their first meeting, but something nestled deep, deep within himself knew  _ something _ about this shady man, though he never managed to grasp whatever it was, no matter how his brain tried to deliver the information.

The dreams were one such method. At least, that was what he thought.

They began shortly after meeting the Ascian, flashes and images that all muddled together into a murky mess upon awakening, leaving behind only the vague sense that whatever it was involved Emet-Selch and whatever feelings the dream invoked from him while asleep. Occasionally it was horror, fear for  _ something _ slithering along his spine, leaving him feeling uneasy for hours afterwards. Sometimes it was unbridled joy, suffusing him with the warm, fuzzy sensation he had whenever he returned to the companions he made along his travels… something he balked at associating with Emet-Selch once his groggy mind cleared enough for him to realize the connection. More often, however, it was feelings of lust that claimed him upon awakening, his erection tenting the covers, body craving the release that had been taken from it along with his dreams. At first, he dismissed it as nothing more than a fluke, the nonsense of dreams doing their work. As such, he had let out a groan more of frustration than arousal before slipping a hand under the sheets to take care of his need. However, when it happened again, when it  _ kept _ happening, he knew that it wasn't merely his mind playing tricks on him.

Of all the companions he had made between the First and the Source, there were some he had found aesthetically-pleasing, yes, but none he had  _ wanted _ in that fashion, leaving him even more confused about this whole mess. Out of  _ everyone _ he could possibly have chosen as a partner, why did he desire someone who was not only a snarky, cranky old man, but one of his most powerful enemies still around at that…?

At first, he tried to push it all to the back of his mind to work out later—there would be an uproar the likes of which none of the shards had seen if the news that the Warrior of Light (or was it Darkness now?) was getting his rocks off to the thought of an Ascian. Besides, the First still needed saving and all and something like that tended to put the act of mulling over emotions off to the wayside. He thought he managed a pretty good job of it too; none of the Scions suspected a thing, at least as far as he could tell.

But the Ascian himself… he was harder to fool.

Maybe he had given Emet-Selch a few too many sidelong glances. Perhaps something in his voice betrayed him, the slightest hint of something that wasn't annoyance or disgust. Hells, he could have had powers that sensed horniness for all he knew of the man and his brethren. Regardless, he had sauntered into his inn room through one of those dark portals right as he was crying the Ascian's name into his own hand as an attempt at muffling himself.

Emet-Selch's gleeful amusement was on-par with his own shame and rage.

Before he could let loose a vitriolic tirade of all the various curse words he had picked up across the lands, however, Emet-Selch had raised a gloved finger to his smirking lips. "Before you unleash some pathetic excuse for rhetoric, I believe we can agree upon an… arrangement that will both provide you with what you apparently so desperately require and buy my own silence in the process…" That smirk widened. "Unless, that is, you wish for me to inform your precious companions about this predicament that you are in?"

Though his mind was screaming at him not to, he pressed his lips together and listened to what the Ascian had to say after that.

It would be simple, he explained. Whenever he found himself overtaken by carnal desires, all he had to do was snap his fingers and the Ascian would come to his side to appease them, if he wasn't already occupied, of course. (Zelos took that to mean napping, plotting, or otherwise up to the usual Ascian mischief.) In exchange, he would owe the Ascian a favor that he would come to collect at some unspecified time in the future.

After all the trouble their dealings had caused him back on the Source, he was loathe to strike one up with an Ascian anytime soon, but really, what choice did he have? If he didn't agree to it, Emet-Selch would go and blab to his companions about what he had witnessed and, even if they didn't believe him at that moment, he'd have to deal with being confronted about it…and there would always be the risk of being discovered at some point in the future as long as these godsforsaken dreams kept happening.

...Besides, some part of him—perhaps the part where said dreams were originating from to begin with— _ wanted _ what Emet-Selch was proposing,  _ wanted _ the man himself and whatever he would be willing to offer him.

So he had agreed to it, clapping a cum-soaked hand over the quickly-disgusted Ascian's to seal the deal; he may have had to accept it, but that didn't mean he couldn't be an absolute shite about it in the process.

And that series of events had led Zelos to where he was now, hidden away behind overgrown foliage in a section of the Rak'tika Greatwood far from where his companions had set up shelter, pants and undergarments shimmied down below his hips, Emet-Selch's gloved hand wrapped around his hardened cock.

"Sh-shut up…" He stammered out in response to the Ascian's comment even as he bucked up into his touch. By the gods, his silken touch was utterly divine and he knew precisely how tight he needed to make his grip for the maximum amount of pleasure… Now, if he would only stop talking, this would be perfect.

"No." He said, instantly shattering his hopes once again. "If you desired a quiet companion, you very well could have chosen any of the whores that surely occupy the First. While your fugitive status keeps you from partaking of the finest Eulmore has to offer, I am certain the vaunted Warrior of Darkness could scrounge one up in the Crystarium."

Zelos bared his teeth at him, partly in irritation, partly as a challenge. Sweat had already begun to bead up across his heated body, plastering his unruly white hair to his forehead. "Hah… s'pose you're right, but… the Warrior of Darkness only wants the best… and what better whore is there than the former Emperor of Garlemald himself?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously and the grip on his cock tightened almost imperceptibly, reminding the hero of just how precarious of a situation he was in. "If you truly wish to go that way, I could always treat you like the savage that you are. However, I did not realize that you were the type to be into shock collars and fetters…"

Zelos decided to be quiet after that, glaring at him and pressing his lips into a thin line to stop himself from snapping back at him.

Unluckily for him, a sour look was not enough to dissuade the Ascian from his own brand of snark.

"Much better." He cooed as he eased up on the dick in his hold, rubbing his thumb against the already leaking head in a way that approached gentleness. "Ah, if only those companions of yours could see you now, submitting to a horrid  _ Ascian _ , allowing him to do as he pleases to your body, not even talking back to him… How utterly  _ shameless _ for you to throw away everything that you have fought for up until this point for a quick handjob."

Zelos huffed a heavy breath out through his nose and bit down on his tongue to keep from snapping at this smug old man. Emet-Selch had to gloat about his little victory here, of course, but the worst part was that he wasn't  _ wrong _ ; he was going against all his previous battles, all his morals, even his basic instinct for survival in some desperate attempt to soothe whatever had awakened in himself upon meeting him. Cheeks flushed in equal parts arousal and shame, he did his best to ignore the Ascian’s words, zeroing in on the sensations of it all to distract himself. The way his breath caught in his lungs before shuddering outwards with every stroke of his cock, how he could acutely feel every last one of Emet-Selch’s fingers as they danced over his sensitive skin and slicked him up with his own copious pre-cum, how every single motion he made sent sparks of pleasure jolting through him, more and more liquid heat pooling in his abdomen, making his member twitch needily with his impending release…

“What do you believe they would say to this?” Ah, but of course he couldn’t even have that much. As he watched with half-lidded eyes, Emet-Selch leaned in closer, close enough that he could feel his lips brush against the inner shell of his ear when next he spoke, his words low, sensual. “Seeing their vaunted hero behaving like such a wanton whore before their enemy...”

Against all expectations, that was what managed to push him over the edge, such degradation fulfilling a desire that he didn’t even know he had. Reflexively jerking his hand up to cover his mouth, he muffled a cry into it as he came, his muscles tensing and hips bucking up as he spurted his seed all over both himself and the hand pleasuring him. With blessed release finally achieved, he was fully prepared to settle back against the forest floor and enjoy the aftershocks of his orgasm, Ascian be damned.

However, the pleasant tremors of his climax didn't last for long.

Almost immediately after coming, he dimly felt the hand leave his erection before a blow across his cheek accompanied by a moist  _ 'schmap' _ shocked his pleasure-addled mind to some level of cognizance. He blinked once, twice, brain slowly becoming aware of the stinging pain blooming across his cheek that was slowly overtaking the aftershocks of his release as well as a viscous, wet smear slowly dribbling down the side of his face. Turning back to face the Ascian, he noted that he was clearly irritated as he quickly, but carefully peeled off his now cum-covered glove and discarded it by flinging it at Zelos' chest.

"Disgusting, weak mortal…" He grumbled seemingly more to himself than to the blissed-out warrior. "Went to all the trouble of helping him and  _ this  _ is how he repays me, by ruining one of my gloves… The sheer  _ gall  _ of him and his ilk, I swear…" His complaining grew quieter then, enough that Zelos could no longer hear his words, but the continued motions of his lips betrayed that he was still talking to himself. One of those dark portals appeared behind him and he slunk back into it, likely heading out to someplace where he could scrub himself clean of any trace of  _ filthy mortals _ .

Despite the fact that he was in the middle of the forest with his pants down, had a soiled glove slowly following gravity's pull down his chest, and had his own seed coating a fresh slap mark on his cheek, Zelos couldn't help but crack a grin. Sure, the Ascian was a right pain in the arse and couldn't keep his mouth shut during a handjob, but that wave of pleasure afterwards, that blissful, blank sensation of not having all the burdens of the world placed on his shoulders… Well, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to the next time he could summon Emet-Selch to take care of his needs once more.

Besides… he just had to see what  _ else  _ he could do to ruffle the cocky Ascian's feathers after all the snark he'd directed his way.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and wanted to screech at me in a manner similar to socializing, then you can find my Twitter right [here](https://twitter.com/HippestGlitch).


End file.
